The Skilled Seduction (43 page)

“Sophie isn’t mine,” his throaty admission seemed to echo through the carriage. She had long suspected it, he knew, and he resented the fact that his wife had gone to such great lengths to procure the information from him.

Victoria straddled him, his shaft inside of her, as she claimed his lips. Her tongue probed deeper, riding his wave of ecstasy as his body began to wrack with spasms. He resented each sensation. This wasn’t what he wanted, not like this. The woman he loved was using his own body against him…

Just like he had once done with her.
 

Victoria moaned as she joined him in release, arching her back as her nails dug into his flesh. Though they remained intimately joined as their euphoria passed, anger sharp like a thousand blades sliced through his heart.

“I never would have thought you so cunning,” he muttered, grabbing her wrists then pulling her closer, aware that his expression was one of pure loathing.

Victoria flinched. “I had to learn the truth. This was the only way I could get you to let your guard down long enough to confess.”

“Bartering lovemaking?” Tristan scoffed.
 

He felt her muscles tense and he relished the fact that he had shamed her.
 

“I needed the truth,” Victoria repeated, meeting his scornful gaze with eyes brimming with emotion. “Because I’m your wife and because I love you.”

He chortled, “Love me?”

Cupping his face in her hands, Victoria’s tone was rich with emotion. “I love you, Tristan.”

“I’ve longed to hear that for so long,” he admitted. “After your actions tonight, it no longer matters.”

Victoria leaned her forehead against his.
   

“You gave me no choice,” she admitted, her tone trembling. “I had to know the truth. Because I love you and because I love Sophie.”

The sway of the carriage slowed and Tristan suspected that they were nearing his townhome. He had instructed his driver to take the scenic route to allow more time with his wife.

Never did he imagine this turn of events.

“You got what you wanted,” his tone dripped with scorn.

His wife caressed his chin. “So did you.”

He opened his mouth to protest but Victoria pressed her fingers against his lips. “I am carrying your child, Tristan.”

As if sensing his shock, as if sensing that his mind was warring with his heart, Victoria elaborated. “You are the first and only man I have ever loved, the man I waited for. I have given you everything … my body, my soul, my hand in marriage but I haven’t been your
first and only
anything, have I?”

He knew her question to be rhetorical. Since she didn’t expect an answer, he instead remained silent.

“I wasn’t your first love,” she offered him a sarcastic grin. “No, you don’t love me at all … never have, never will, remember? I do not hold the distinction of being your only betrothed, nor do I hold that honor as your lover.”

The realization that he’d never before considered the extent of Victoria’s emotions made him feel like the most insensitive cad who ever existed.

“I needed the truth because I was desperate to know that I rank exclusively in something – that I am the mother of your children. That, in this at least, no other woman came before me. I won’t betray your secret. Sophie is still our daughter. All that matters is my knowledge that I hold some distinction.” Her sapphire eyes reflected the depths of her love.

He should have noticed sooner. Her anger hid her insecurities, buried them beneath the surface. His wife was more vulnerable than he ever suspected.

“I married you, Victoria,” he held her face in his hands. “Only you.”

She inhaled a deep breath. “Not by choice. I was never your choice.”

How wrong she was.
 

Why couldn’t Victoria see that? Why couldn’t she trust him? Why couldn’t she see what they shared?

“You are the only betrothed that I was desperate to marry, that I couldn’t walk away from, and you are the only lover who has ever mattered to me.”

Victoria was also the only woman he had come close to trusting in years and she, too, had betrayed him. Tristan swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat, the taste of her betrayal bitter, like ash. Cinders of the love he once felt for her, of the future he thought they would share.

“I love you,” she whispered, her head resting upon his shoulder.

I love you …
three words, on the tip of his tongue, a sentiment that he had once expressed when she failed to believe him, words that he longed to repeat, a sentiment that her betrayal now rendered him incapable of speaking aloud.

The irony failed to escape him. The woman he loved beyond reason was carrying his child. He had gotten everything he wanted. But it came at a steep price. Victoria was no longer the innocent she once was and Tristan knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was to blame.

Left with no other option than to hold his wife and grieve for the life he once thought they could share, Tristan wrapped his arms around her, encircling Victoria in a tight embrace. He clung to her for dear life, realizing that once they returned home and he released her at last, everything would change.

He had lost her, the woman she had been, the one he loved beyond reason, the same woman he wanted beyond any other.

It was with these insights that Tristan knew he had been thrust straight into the mouth of hell.

Chapter 18

The next few weeks passed in relative silence. At least when Tristan was alone with Victoria, which both tried to avoid at all costs. Instead they chose to spend time with Sophie, the little girl’s boundless laughter being the one bright spot in a marriage left in tatters.

Tristan watched from the hallway as Victoria sat on Sophie’s bed reading her a bedtime story, joined by Molly who had become as fiercely protective of the little girl as she was of Victoria. It had become a habit of his, watching his wife when she wouldn’t notice.

Sophie giggled and wrapped her arms around Victoria, who in turn held the child in her loving embrace. Molly barked.

“All right, you two, back in bed. It is time to finish our book.”

Victoria tucked the little girl under the covers and settled beside her atop the bed. “Where did we leave off?”

As she flipped through the pages, his wife surprised him by pausing in the middle of a tale about two young children encountering animals such as lambs, ducks and a cat. “This section requires a different voice, I think,” Victoria reached for Tristan.

He grinned, remembering that morning when everything changed between them as they shared lighthearted banter about bedtime stories with their niece. With a sudden clarity, like a cloud drifting from the sun, Tristan was reminded that they were always meant to be. Even if he and Victoria had never been intimate on that fateful night, he would have wound up spending the rest of his life with her.
 

Their story was inevitable.

He strode across the room, kissing the top of Victoria’s head then reaching for the book. Joining his wife and daughter on the little girl’s canopy bed with pale pink bedding, he read the adventure of a brother, sister and the animals they encountered on their journey home.

Long after their daughter with the cherub-like face had fallen into a deep slumber, Tristan and Victoria remained on her bed, their legs outstretched watching her sleep and listening to Molly’s occasional soft snores.

Sophie’s chest gently rose and fell, her lips unconsciously twisted into a grin and Tristan’s chest constricted with an overwhelming sense of contentment.

This was his family, Tristan realized as Victoria gently stroked the child’s hair as she slept.

God, how he loved this woman beside him.
 

Was it his punishment, to love her so much and remain incapable of voicing such feelings? Tristan had once believed so. But now, after all that had transpired, after gaining a family with the woman he loved he was no longer certain.

Victoria was carrying his child. As if that weren’t enough, she had already given him the gift of a beautiful little girl whom he loved as if she were his own. Victoria also loved him, and had openly admitted it knowing full well that he was angry as hell at her for deceiving him. She expected his wrath, yet admitted her love in spite of her fear of rejection. He rested his hand upon his wife’s abdomen in an intimate and protective gesture as he kissed her shoulder.

She had also kept her word, never asking him about his elaborate ruse involving Sophie. Instead, Victoria hadn’t mentioned it, not once since he had admitted the truth about little girl’s relation to him.

It was past time he was completely honest with his wife.

Tristan studied Sophie, who remained in a peaceful slumber. He then whispered in hushed tones, barely audible over the crackling of the fire in the grate. “The
ton
was right about my having an affair with her mother. They were also correct about her profession. I began seeing her shortly after you and I first kissed. I’ve long since realized that I was running from my feelings for you far more than Eve’s betrayal.”

Victoria’s hand stilled, resting upon the little girl’s pillow.

“My arrangement with her mother was short and ended before she became pregnant,” he assured his wife, aware of the direction her thoughts would quickly travel. “She had begun seeing a married man, someone with higher political connections – a jealous and vindictive man.”

“A dangerous man?” Victoria muttered.

Tristan kissed the top of her head. “Yes, he was abusive. She came to me one night, battered with a few broken bones, begging for help. She was pregnant and frightened for her child, terrified that he would claim her unfit and steal the little girl or, worse yet, dispose of the babe.”

Tori exhaled a ragged breath. This sounded all too familiar, memories of her own father flooding over her fast and furious … the mistresses, the violence, the penchant for debauchery.

“You sacrificed your reputation by allowing society to presume—”

“Several people saw Sophie’s mother entering my townhome that evening,” Tristan smoothed his wife’s silken tresses. “They were unaware of her injuries, of course. In true fashion, rumor quickly spread that she was my mistress. It made sense that the child would be considered mine.”

Victoria leaned her head against Tristan’s chest. “How did this man react?”

“He retaliated against me by all but destroying my career.”

It made sense to Victoria at last. He must have noted her sharp intake of breath, for Tristan added, “Yes. It was he who publicly denounced me. He also placed pressure upon my firm to release me though there were a select few who knew the truth. One was a wealthy, noble client.”

“Lord Johnathan Crowley,” Victoria whispered, a little louder than she intended.

Sophie stirred, and Tristan rose, taking great pains to make as little noise as possible. He offered Victoria his hand before leading her into her suite.

The fire was raging, casting a warm, amber glow upon the spacious room, accentuating the gold cream-colored damask duvet and shams that lay upon her four-poster bed. He had spared no expense, of course, in furnishing his wife’s suite. Her bed even lay upon a dais, her room fit for a queen.

“Johnathan knew, as did a couple of others,” he continued, sensing Victoria’s dismay that his secret was shared by so many but herself, Tristan was quick to clarify. “She was in need of immediate medical attention after her altercation with him. Johnathan, his physician, and my grandfather were the only ones I trusted with the truth at the time.”

Even in the dim light, Tristan could discern his wife’s expression – one of kindness and concern. “I understand,” she said, sitting on her bed then patting the spot beside her.

Tristan sat. “Johnathan fought for me and has been fiercely loyal.”

Victoria reached for his face, pressing her cool palm against his cheek. Her fingers were cold, so much so that he began rubbing them between his hands, infusing warmth.

“No man would have claimed his illegitimate daughter,” Tristan explained. “To do so would have garnered suspicion. We all decided it was best that I not claim Sophie. Dominique,” he paused at the woman’s name, his grip tightening as if he were afraid Victoria would bolt at the mere mention of it. “Sophie’s mother sacrificed the child, sending her to an orphanage so no one could note any resemblances between the child and her blood father. I have similar color hair as he does, but that’s where our similarities end.”

The thought of Sophie filled Victoria’s mind. The raven hair, patrician nose, the little girl’s cornflower blue eyes with specs of silver … she had seen a man with those features tonight.

“His name isn’t important. He is a member of nobility and has high political aspirations,” Tristan paused. “He is dangerous, Victoria. I swore to keep the paternity a secret.”

He sprawled on her mattress. “I didn’t possess any other options at the time.”

Victoria joined him, gently lacing her fingers through his. “You did the right thing. I know that now.”

Tristan laid beside her in silence, the flames burning in the fireplace grate casting shadows that danced about the walls and ceiling. The muted crackling sound was as subtle as the sound of his wife’s gentle breaths. He was unaware how long they remained there, lying next to each other. Even now, after all that had transpired between them, time had a tendency to stand still whenever he was with her.